


Impatience

by faust_ine



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Elias Bouchard, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Other, POV Second Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rain Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Temperature Play, Voyeurism, a little bit of soft humiliation if that's a thing, he's a very bratty sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25962850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faust_ine/pseuds/faust_ine
Summary: You and your date, Elias Bouchard, take shelter from the rain in a small alley after you get out of the theatre, waiting for a cab to arrive. However, Elias seems eager to start some action.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Reader, Elias Bouchard/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Impatience

**Author's Note:**

> Some descriptions imply that the main character has a vagina, however, this is not very relevant to the story and no gender is ever especified.

William Shakespeare's The Tempest. It was an adequate play for that evening, when you came out of the theatre.

The blue sky that shone in the afternoon has now become a tangle of black clouds that pour rain heavily on the pavement- there is no wind, only a constant waterfall. You can see the soaked theatre-goers running around, seeking refuge in the nearest cafeterias.  
You and your date are no different. Trying to get through the masses, you arrive into a narrow alley behind the theatre and take shelter under a cornice. It’s a bit late to stay completely dry, but at least you don’t look like you’ve been swimming with your clothes on just yet. The cornice is not very wide, and you and your partner push your backs onto the wall, one next to the other.

You look at him, still catching your breath. Elias Bouchard has a taste for elegant yet sober clothes, and he’s probably not happy to see the state they’re in: his black suit dripping, water soaking his pants up to his knees, his expensive shoes making a damp sound whenever he steps on the floor. He quietly mumbles to himself as he tries to fix his tie and the strands of hair that have fallen messily over his forehead, black with streaks of white. You think it’s quite a funny scene, actually.

“Well, I guess I’m going to call a cab” he says drawing out his phone, after giving up on making himself look tidy enough for his standards. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of traffic out there, but...” he sighs softly. “...Probably better than waiting for the rain to stop”.

You don’t pay attention at his conversation with the driver. You look up at the gray sky, with a sort of heaviness in your chest. They’re always a bit awkward, moments like this. You both knew very well why you were seeing each other. You both knew what you where thinking of, what you were waiting for, what you were going to do when you get to your apartment. Your relationship outside of that seemed artificial, kind of performative. You both only show fragments of your actual selves lying down intertwined with the sheets, whispering to each other. So now, out in the street, waiting for a cab without a thing to do, only with anticipation left, there was an uncomfortable kind of tension lingering in the air.

He hangs up the phone, and you finally look at him, leaning against the wall, the street lights trimming his silhouette, cleaning his glasses carefully with a silky cloth. You liked how he looked that way and, far from averting your eyes again, you stare at him more directly this time, more deliberately.  
He turns towards you, as if he could feel your gaze, and smiles, noticing something in your face. That smile you never did like. It was so overtly provocative and excruciating, it enhanced the natural smugness of his face so blatantly, you could have choked him on the spot.

“You seem especially interested in me today, dear- anything in particular catching your eye?”  
“Of course” you start, an acid smile curling your lips “I was admiring how much of a mess you’re looking right now”  
He leans closer to you, his breath more present, his voice softer. “Could it be you prefer me when I’m looking a mess?”

You let out a short laugh. He was not wrong. You cling to him, pulling him even closer until the tips of your noses touch, your eyelashes almost against his glasses, feeling every point where your bodies encountered and every point where they didn’t. You stay like that for a moment, your eyes closed, breathing heavily but softly, before you can’t contain the impulse to put your mouth on his. Noticing your lips he opens wide, letting your tongue in to meet his own. It feels wet, much much more wet than your damp clothes, and still so much warmer and gentler, almost silky and sweet. You dig deeper into his mouth, avidly, and he lets out a breathy moan, muffled off by your own lips.  
You can’t control yourself when he makes that kind of sounds. You feel an urge between your legs, a pulsating warmth that extends to your belly up to your chest and makes you start breathing faster, more heavily, with a need too apparent for your current circumstances.

You step back suddenly, trying to pull yourself out of that state before is too late. You just have to wait for the cab. It’s a short ride. You wish there was someone else in that alley, so you could get out of that intoxication- but there’s no one near, and you can only hear the crowds and the traffic in the distance.  
Elias doesn’t seem to catch the meaning of your gesture, or doesn’t want to, and kisses your mouth again, then your chin, then your neck.  
“Wait, wait” you force yourself to intervene, but still staying close to him. “Hold on. However horny you are, are you sure you wanna go on like this? In the middle of the street?”

He seems a bit baffled at first and blinks his eyes, as if he didn’t understand why someone would care about having sex in a public space. Then that unbearable smile comes back to his lips, those well chiseled, thin lips, and says in a whisper: “Well, you see, perhaps I have a small problem”.  
You back off a bit and look down, with a sudden realization. Oh god. That’s not a "small" problem. To make it even worse, the dampness of his pants makes the bulge more evident, sticking around it, so shamefully noticeable.

“Jesus Christ. Cover it up” you order quickly. “Use your jacket or something.”  
“Oh, but it’s going to hurt” he purrs, his smile wider, his face a little tilted to the side, strands of his hair still wet and dangling over his forehead.  
He really wanted to do it. In the middle of the street. Not that you didn’t know what he’s into, but *this* you’ve never done before. And if you get caught, you both would get in trouble, just because he’s too horny to hold himself. He can do what he wants, but dragging you into this-  
You feel a burning wave of rage rising up to your face but then, in a sudden, you make up your mind.

“Fine” you start bluntly. “Then do it”.  
His expression changes, vague confusion showing up in his face for a second. He turns pale, then a little red. “You mean...”  
His reaction is delightful, and at some point even a bit unexpected. It’s the perfect incentive to make you make up your mind totally.  
“Do it” you repeat, more imperative this time, using your best authoritarian voice. “If you don’t mind being watched, then I don’t see the problem.”

There’s no way he would cower at a time like this- he’s too proud for that. So, following that idea of pride of his, he leans his back firmly against the wall and starts to remove his belt.  
Oh, fuck. He’s actually doing it. Feeling a strong nervousness and a weird sort of excitement, you start looking around, still trying to mantain a stoic facade. There’s a few containers here and there and a sign between you and the main street, and that might be enough to cover you from the walking silhouettes that crossed the perpendicular road. In any case, the rain had scared the people off and the street was emptier than normal.  
But still.

The tinkling sound of his belt being removed brings back your attention to him. He unzips his pants, lowering them a little with a movement that also lets you see part of his belly, where his pubic hair starts to grow. Then quickly, as trying to make clear that he’s not hesitating *at all*, he pulls out his cock from his dark gray underwear. His erection is quite impressive at this point, given the little you’ve actually touched each other. His dick was standing hard and red , exposed to the fresh air of the city, softly pulsating with anticipation.

He doesn’t do anything else for a short while, and it’s enough for you to take a good look at him in this state: Elias Bouchard, head of the Magnus Institute, soaked, with his pants down and his private parts exposed for anyone who could cross the alley at the time to see. You have to contain yourself to not laugh at his face. Maybe just this time you’ll spare him that.  
Then he looks at you, raising his chin a little, his glasses slipping a bit towards the tip of his nose. Then, with daring eyes still glowing, he starts touching himself.

He starts softly at first, stroking the tip and caressing his length slowly with his fingers, following his own rythm, moving his hand with deliberate care. His cock twitches at his touch in anticipation as his hands start enveloping it more fully, now using his palm.

You can’t avert your eyes from the scene, and the delight you feel is baffling and unexpected: not that you’ve never taken a special sort of pleasure in observing him with attention, his every action, his every little gesture, his face when you touch him in those special places- but this time he was entirely exposed right in front of you, masturbating, and that you’ve seen done before. How hypnotizing is to watch the movement of his hands, his agile fingers on his own dick, touching in the places that he knows he wants, at his own pace, all clear in front of you to behold. How easy it was to observe from your position, just standing up in front of him, the lower part of his abdomen tensing up with very twitch, his inner thighs showing under the ruffled underwear that had slipped only a bit lower than his usual position. You want to drink with your eyes the picture and engrave it in your brain so you can remember like that, forever- so clear as it was now, in a dark alley at dawn, with the sound of pouring rain over the gray pavement and the traffic in the distance. The excitement that enfolds you is such that you can resist the urges of your own palpitating crotch and ignore the heavy breathing of your chest, intoxicated by the picture before you.

In a moment of impatience, he grabs his now very stimulated cock with his whole hand and starts jerking off. Still looking directly at you, he’s not able to keep a straight face anymore: his cheeks red, his lips opening with every gasp, his brow slightly frowning in pleasure. He caresses his dick with his palm gently at first, his hips starting to follow the movement of his hand smoothly in a rhythmic motion, keeping his own special pace that was being exposed to you now, his intimacy laid bare.

He starts jerking off faster, more harshly now, with an urge unable to hide. He's still looking directly at you, and you at him, in constant eye contact, drinking each other with your gaze. You can see how much he’s enjoying it, being watched while he does that, the vibrating arousal of a new and surprisingly delightful experience, feeling your eyes penetrate him and eating him up like those of a hawk, observing him like no one has done before, remembering every detail to keep it forever with you. A little secret, just between you two.

As he keeps touching himself his breath quickens and his gasps, stronger each time, grow louder until they turn into soft moans. The movement has made some strands of his hair fall out of place again and tangle between his eyelashes, his glasses slipping a bit more towards the tip of his nose, his pants much lower now than when he unzipped them.  
“Oh, Elias” you can’t help but say, smiling. “If you could see yourself right now. You really don’t have any shame at all, don't you?”

A corner of his mouth twists with a grin, that grin you know so well, but now broken by his lack of composture, and he hisses “How nice of you to show your appreciation for my lack of cowardice”.  
Without thinking, moving by pure instinct, you step towards him and grab his wrist, taking his hand away from his dick. Elias looks at you with surprise at first, but he doesn’t try to escape your grip, even if you’re not even holding him very strongly.

“Well- anything wrong?” he asks, trying to keep his composture but with a strong need slipping through his voice, his cock throbbing and aching for more when it was so close to the sweet climax. The rain starts resonating harder in your brain as you feel a wave of raging lust running through your whole body, reminding you of the warm wetness still growing between your legs.  
“You really want to get me into this, don’t you?” you start. “You are trying to provoke me. Very well, but it won’t go as you expect”.  
“How very exciting, dear” he whispers. “Go ahead then, as you can see I’m quite disposed to it”.

This slut.

With your free hand you rip off his tie quickly, pulling it violently from his neck and, after placing the hand you where holding behind his back, next to the other, you start tying his wrists up.  
“Well” says Elias, bending towards you a little to facilitate your movement, his face closer. “That’s nothing really new, isn’t it.”  
You push him towards the wall again without answering, step closer, and restrain his shoulder against the wall with one hand, grabbing his cock firmly with the other. His smugness fades inmediatly at the touch of your palm.  
“Oh- goodness, your hand is bloody cold!”

You smile a bit. Of course it was, your body temperature was naturally low, but now, after being under the rain for a good while, and in contrast with the warmth of his erect, stimulated dick, it probably felt like ice. Uncaring of that fact, you start moving it fast- no time for delicacy, as he lets out noises at the very present, very envolving feeling of your icy hand jacking him off roughly, leaving a burning sensation with it’s touch.  
You feel delighted at his reaction, that mixture of discomfort and undeniable pleasure, as you feel his dick pulsating with need between your fingers, it’s hardness covered by smooth, warm skin.

You speed up even more, your moves almost violent, as you see him lying upon the wall, now barely able to stand by himself, his hands tied behind his back, his pants slipping even more and his shirt rolling up, letting you see the tense skin of his abdomen and upper thighs, vibrating with pleasure, moving at your command, following the same rythm as his moanings.  
His cock starts twitching more noticeably now, with urge and anticipation, and then, feeling an enormous hunger filling you, an instinct burning you inside, you let go of it.

Elias looks actually surprised now. You see a thin line of liquid running down the tip of his dick, and hear an actually desperate gasp as you step away from him again. Then he actually notices what implies to have his hands tied up- he tries to grab his cock to finish out of instinct, but finds himself helpless, unable of any movement that can calm his aching urge.

You tilt your head to the side a bit and look at him up to down, observing carefully, like if you were sizing him up for a new suit.  
“Hmm” you mumble. “You look pathetic”.

“Cut it off” he says, not a lot of composture left in him anymore. “We both now you’re going to finish this.”  
“Oh, but of course. I’m not that evil, you know. I’m just spicing things up a little”.  
“Well, don’t take too long”, he remarks. “There’s a cab in the way, in case you forgot”.  
“Oh, you’re absolutely right”.

Then you get closer to him again, grab him by the shoulders, and turn him around to make him face the wall. You can clearly see his hands now, tied at his back, and you push him to bend him over a little to have better access at the part you’re interested in at the moment.  
Even if his pants and underwear had slipped at the front, they've stayed put a somewhat better at the back, and you lower them a little, showing most part of his ass. He shudders at the feeling of the cold air over his butt and, taking advantage of his mouth opened by his heavy breathing, you insert your fingers in it and start caressing his tongue. He gags, being unprepared, but then starts reacting to your touch, using his tongue to cover your fingers with saliva, letting you feel the warmth and softness of his inside.  
When your fingers are wet enough you pull them out of his mouth and take them back to his butt.

“Very well” he starts, “if you’re really going to do that in this circumstances please at least be gentl- oh!”  
His voice breaks as you introduce half of your middle finger into his ass, wet and warmed up by his saliva but still probably colder than it should be. You start moving it slowly, massaging his interior before letting it further, thrusting it in in it’s entirety. You move your finger back and forth, bending it a little, making his inside looser and more relaxed as you can hear Elias exhale softly, following your rythm.  
“Come on, dear. We don’t have all day, don’t we”.

Hm. Impatient now, isn’t he. Very well. You put two more fingers inside him at once, carefully but without stopping, letting him feel every milimeter that you penetrate him further. A long, deep moan follows this time, full of pleasure and a tiny bit of pain, and you can feel his inside reacting at your touch, sucking you in, starving for your fingers.  
You like them, moments like this. Most of the time, no matter what you were doing to him, he always tried to keep his composture- be it being tied up to your bed, having the tip of your shoe under his chin- he always put on that insufferable smile of his.  
But sometimes, when you caressed him like this, he actually let himself go. They’re the only moments when he shows to yourself vulnerable, open, totally at your disposition, a special kind of honesty. And afterwards he would lay down on the bed, sometimes exhausted, and slowly fall sleep while you caress his forehead, the back of his ears, softly purring like cat.  
The next morning, he always turned back to his usual self again. But those moments, even if they were short, they were real, and they were yours.

You start moving your fingers inside him with care, touching him inside, finding the exact point and rubbing; then pulling out your fingers and putting them in again, creating a rhythmic cicle that you start to repeat more quickly each time. You can feel his voice more present, the gasps turning into moans that became longer and louder, his asshole around your touch and welcoming it, his dick pulsating in the air, so hard and tense now, more pre-cum coming out of it and running through it’s length. His hips move to your rythm, following your hand, more widely each time, unable to stop, reacting at the pleasure of feeling you inside him- there, in an alley, with his damp clothes still on, smelling and hearing the rain. He moans your name.

“Oh, god, I’m going to-“you rapidly put your free hand over his lips, pressing hard and muffling his moans, that soon intensify. He raises up his voice as he comes with a shudder, bending his back against your chest, his cock releasing cum uncontrollably and making it drip.  
After the climax you feel his body relax, and you take your hand off his mouth, letting him pant, and then pull out your fingers off his ass. You untie his hands and he turns around lying his back towards the wall, disheveled and barely able to stand, his pants down, his shirt untidy and his wirsts red, the face burning with exhaustion. You smile to yourself. You did a good job.

“Well”, you say, staring at him mockingly. “You look satisfied now”.  
“A decent job, may I say, after all that hesitation” he manages to respond, as he pulls up his pants. Ah, the grin. It was back. “You have my congrats”.  
Then his phone starts to ring. The cab was probably already waiting in the street. Time’s up.  
“How opportune” Elias points out, now polishing the knot of his tie. He somehow looks almost composed again, like if nothing had happened. “Very well, shall we go?”

You leave the alley with him, it’s darkness and intimacy behind, going back to the streets full of people going around, holding their umbrellas under the rain that persisted, maybe a little bit gentler, falling over London.  
You still feel an urge between your legs, burning inside you, but you smile. It’s ok. You are going to be home soon and, unlike others, you can be very patient.

**Author's Note:**

> All right so this is my first fic. Ever. Except for that X-men one I wrote when I was 8.  
> Just wanted to give y'all a chance to obliterate the evil old twink. I find stuff that puts emphasis on vouyerism and observing your partner very interesting and I thought it would be nice having it done TO Elias. Also I like him being a massive bottom so there's that.  
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
